


All Nighter

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel!College AU; Cas helps Dean study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Nighter

"What years did World War two span?" Castiel asks, sapphire eyes lifting from the textbook to lock with Dean’s pensive stare. 

"Thirty-nine to forty…." Dean’s mouth opens to answer but promptly closes it when he second guesses the end date. When his incisors dig into his bottom lip to form a ‘five’, Castiel nods encouragingly. "Forty-five," Dean says confidently, smiling as though he had known it all along. 

"Good," Cas praises. His chair skids back slightly as he stands, hands already on the zipper of his charcoal-colored hoodie. He unzips it and glances over at Dean while he shrugs it from his shoulders to reveal the plain, white T-shirt beneath. In an instant, he seats himself back across from Dean and pulls the textbook back into his lap with a sigh.

"Axis powers?" Castiel questions, crossing his legs casually as he watches Dean think it over.

"Italy, Japan, Germany, and the Soviet Union," Dean lets out, only pausing briefly in between countries.

Again, Castiel stands up from his chair; however, rather than taking off a piece of actual clothing, he instead starts reaching for his bracelet—the braided one that Dean got for him when they worked the on-campus swap meet—and begins inching it towards his fingertips. 

"Really? The bracelet?" Dean asks, sounding both bored and almost offended. 

"That was an easy one. Easy question, easy reward," Castiel retorts simply, wearing a smug smile as he slips it off the rest of the way and sets it on the dresser. Dean just huffs in response and drops his arms to his sides defeatedly, shooting daggers at his boyfriend until he is seated across from him once again. 

He almost snaps again when he gets the next two questions right—something about D-Day and the Treaty of Versailles—and all Castiel takes off are his socks. Fortunately, after that there isn’t anything left for him to tease with. 

"What were Germany’s pre-war invasions?" Castiel asks, smiling sweetly and tapping his fingers against the dense pages.

Dean stands to turn his chair around to sit on it backwards and answers “Austria, Rhineland, and Sudetenland.” He smirks and raises his eyebrows pompously at Castiel’s marginally surprised face and sits up a little straighter when the brunette stands up from his seat once more. 

"Ooh, someone did their homework for once," Castiel teases, crossing his arms over his abdomen and hooking his fingers beneath the bottom of his shirt. He tugs it over his head smoothly and is sure to wiggle his hips subtly as each inch of newly uncovered skin comes into view. 

While Castiel discards the shirt and attempts to fix his disheveled hair, Dean takes the time to shamelessly rake his eyes down his lover’s lightly muscled upper body. Those biteable collarbones still covered in faint bruises from when Dean’s lips were on them last. The linear depressions in his chest and abdomen that frame every well-maintained muscle—the same ones Dean has mapped over countless times with his fingertips. And those hip bones. Oh my god, those hipbones. 

Dean licks his lips, already imagining the feeling of his thumbs pressing into the protruding bones there, rolling circles and applying just the right about of pressure as Castiel writhes and stirs himself on his co—

"Dean." Castiel’s blunt tone instantly snaps Dean from his pleasant reverie. He looks up, cheeks tinted with the faintest shade of pink, and smiles at his lover innocently. Cas just shakes his head, lowering it to hide his own. "What three important historical figures attended the Yalta Conference?" Cas asks, now pacing the room with the book in hand. 

It’s difficult for Dean to concentrate as each step causes the other man’s jeans to inch lower and lower until they are just barely clinging to his hips. When Cas turns around, Dean’s eyes instantly plunge to the perfect, little dimples at the small of his back. He’s unaware that his mouth is hanging open now or that he is practically salivating but the sound of Castiel clearing his throat is enough to refocus his train of thought. 

"Churchill, Roosevelt, and that Stalin guy," Dean blurts hurriedly, reaching down to adjust himself in anticipation for what is coming next. He swallows dryly and leans forward into the back of the chair and tightens his grip on the wood once Cas reaches for his fly. 

His back is still turned as he nudges the constricting denim down his thighs and over his knees. He bends down gracefully to push them over his calves and slowly unfolds to step out of them. As much as Dean loves the way those skinny jeans hug Castiel’s ass, they look much, much better on the floor. He’s wearing those panties—the stretchy blue boyshort ones with white little bird silhouettes all over them—that cling to his backside so perfectly, accentuating everything from the curve of his ass to the pronounced outline of his hard cock as it strains against them. 

"Okay, I am just letting you know, I am officially done thinking with this head now," Dean mutters, pressing a finger to his temple. Cas just chuckles and reaches for the book again. 

"What was the name of the project to build atomic weapons?" Castiel questions, holding the book with one hand spread across the spine. He is leaning over the desk now, slightly bent over and propped up against the table with his elbows planted on the flat surface. When he flicks his eyes in Dean’s direction, he is surprised to see him already standing from his chair.

"Manhattan something. Can I fuck you now?" Dean grunts out bluntly, jaw clenching when Cas holds up his index finger to halt him in his tracks. 

Smiling as sweetly as ever, Castiel sets the book down and hooks his thumbs beneath the elastic of his underwear. He starts to usher them down at an agonizingly slow pace but his eyes stay fixated on Dean’s the entire time. He steps out of them and picks himself back up, his swollen cock pressed right up against his taut stomach and the skin there glistening with precome. 

"Fuck, baby…" Dean breaths, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and primal hunger. 

Castiel half smiles and grips at the edge of the desk behind him before hopping up onto it and silently beckoning Dean closer with his index and middle finger. Dean is stepping towards him not a second later, claiming Castiels mouth with vigor and forcing his tongue past his lips—the same lips that had been testing him just moments earlier. One hand finds the back of Cas’ head while the other is already groping up one of his milky thighs and towards his supple backside. 

The two of them smile and breathe deep when they part, only to dive back in for another taste. Their tongues slide against one another, heads tilting to the side for deeper access. Their muffled moans are only challenged by the concurrent sharp intakes of air through their noses. When they part again, Cas’ face is flushed and his incredibly blue eyes are ignited with lust. It becomes very clear very quickly that Dean is not the only one that’s been affected from the tortuously slow pace of their erotic history lesson.

"Nhn, Dean…want you. Want you in me," Cas practically whines, already dragging his fingernails down the length of his lover’s muscled back and leaving faint, red streaks behind. 

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Dean closes his mouth over Castiel’s Adam’s apple and sucks the spot in between words, "Want me to open you up first? Finger and eat that little ass?" Dean bites down hard enough to evoke a guttural moan from the brunette’s parted lips and apologetically soothes the spot with his tongue while Cas multiplies the streaks on his back. 

"Yes. F-Fuck yes," Castiel whispers, slowly withdrawing his hands from Dean’s body and gripping hard at the edge of the desk when he feels his hips being lifted off the surface. Dean practically folds him in half and grips at Cas’ thick thighs hard as he spreads them. He presses rough kisses into his inner thighs and trails his lips towards his balls. The mixture of tender, open-mouthed kisses and Dean’s scratchy stubble against his sensitive skin makes Cas shudder in the best of ways. 

Dean uses his strong forearms to keep Castiel’s lower body elevated and spreads the plump globes of his ass apart to reveal the pink, little rosebud between them. His green eyes flicker upwards to meet with Cas’ hooded blues just as his tongue darts out to flick over his tight entrance. They both moan simultaneously, Dean’s fingers gripping Cas’ cheeks a little tighter and holding them apart when he leans in again. At this point, it’s as much of a tease to him as it is to Cas. 

This time when Dean leans in, he wastes no time with petty, little licks. He buries his face between his firm cheeks and laps enthusiastically at Cas’ opening at a relentless pace, only pulling back to watch it tense and relax as Castiel practically sobs for more. He spits and dips his head between his thighs again, this time plunging his tongue past his tight ring incessantly. 

The sensations reduce Castiel to a whimpering, panting mess in no time. He still grips at the desk to keep himself in position but his knuckles are white from pressure and his legs are quivering as Dean fucks his tongue into him.

Dean pulls away and wipes his mouth on his clothed shoulder and gazes down at his handiwork, still gripping and spreading his cheeks widely. “Look at you, angel. All open and spread out for me,” Dean says huskily, pressing one thumb against his sloppy hole and watching as it sinks in easily. “Can’t wait to fuck that sloppy, little hole,” Dean grunts, pushing in another digit and letting out a breathy groan at how easily Cas accepts it. 

Castiel just writhes and smiles at Dean’s filthy words, unable to form any coherent responses of his own due to the third finger being added just a moment later. Dean twists and curls them one at a time and then altogether which instantly makes Cas buck back against him and let out ridiculously erotic sound—something crossed between a whine and insistent moan, “Dea-Dean, more…need your cock.” 

Dean bites down on his lower lip as he pulls his fingers out carefully and eases the other man down so his back is flat against the desk. He pulls off his own clothing—grateful that he hadn’t bothered to change out of his sweatpants and undershirt since that morning’s class—and yanks open the top drawer of the desk. After a moment of frantic, blind searching, he finds one of the many bottles of lubrication stashed around their dorm and squeezes a generous amount into his palm. 

Cas is already sitting up, his legs spread and on either side of Dean’s hips, working his cock in one hand and attacking his toned chest with eager kisses and licks. Dean relishes in the long-awaited stimulation for a moment, head tilted back, lips parted, and eyes shut peacefully but ultimately wraps his fingers around Castiel’s wrist and reluctantly eases him off. He brings Cas’ hand up to his lips and kisses his palm with a smile when the other cups his face. 

"My beautiful boy," Dean lets out huskily, giving Castiel’s hips a little tug towards the edge of the desk before positioning his cock at his entrance and nudging it with the tip. Seeing Cas like this, spread beneath him and literally begging to be taken, blue eyes wide and starved for attention, and those perfectly pouty lips. Son of a bitch—those lips. 

When Dean starts to ease into him, Castiel presses a palm to his own forehead and stares up at his lover, mouth agape and eyebrows slanted in the most innocent and needy way. His eyes practically roll into the back of his head when Dean finally sinks in to the hilt. Dean twitches and throbs within him, arousing yet another painfully erotic sound from somewhere deep in Cas’ throat. Like always, there is a pause while Castiel adjusts to the large intrusion but within moments, the brunette is clawing at Dean’s chest and spreading his legs wider to entice his lover further. 

Dean takes the hint and hunches forward to claim his boyfriend’s mouth while slowly jerking his hips forward and back, only pulling out of him minimally with each short thrust. Castiel kisses him back with equal fervor and arches off of the desk while inching his hands down to hold onto the backs of his own thighs. “Damn, baby. Look so hot like that. Spread that ass for me,” Dean pants affectionately, watching as Castiel obliges without even a glimmer of hesitation. 

With Cas spread even wider now, Dean bucks into him roughly. The desk bumps into the wall with every thrust but Dean doesn’t stop—not when the textbooks topple onto the floor and not when the lamp falls over. At this rate, neither of them last long. 

"Right there! R-Right, Oh my god,” Castiel cries, teeth gnashing together as Dean pounds relentlessly into his sweet spot. Even when he’s coming, painting his flat stomach in streaks of white, he keeps himself spread open for Dean’s hammering cock. 

"Fuck, I love it when you come on my cock, baby. So fucking hot and tight," Dean praises. There is nothing that undoes him quicker than Castiel reaching his peak solely from being fucked. Naturally, it only takes a few more thrusts before Dean is spilling himself into his lover. His seed oozes out from around his member as he fills Cas to the brim, staining the other’s thighs and dripping onto the wooden surface below. 

Castiel’s eyes are barely open by the time Dean pulls out of him. He drapes an arm over his forehead and peers up at his lover through squinted eyes and smiles as Dean delicately releases his legs and lets them dangle over the edge of the desk. Still overwhelmed with post-coital bliss, Cas remains limp and motionless while Dean cleans the two of them off, only opening his eyes when he feels familiar, strong arms slipping beneath his armpits and scooping him up. 

"I was a little skeptical when you said we would be pulling an ‘all nighter’ but I think you’re onto something with this whole studying thing," Dean murmurs against his lover’s lips after peppering his flushed face with kisses. Castiel is sitting up now, still on the desk, letting his hands roam over Dean’s lightly freckled biceps. 

"You earned it. But you bring home at least a B and I’ll show you just how good these rewards can get," Cas says, eyeing his lover with a lazy grin. 

Needless to stay, Dean hit the books every night that week.


End file.
